Only Human
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: They're only human. And humans have needs. Only rated T because of twincest.


_Who will bring me flowers when it's over? And who will give me comfort when it's cold?_

_And who will I belong to when the day just won't give in? And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins?_

* * *

Funny thing, twins.

In all their lives, Fred and George had never been apart. From the moment they were born they were placed in opposite ends of a cot, and grew up like that. Together. They never thought anything of it, never needed to. Other people were one, and Fred and George were identical to the final freckle, so they felt that they were one, too. If they stood side by side and stared into a mirror for long enough, they'd often forget themselves, which one was which. They were so used to being called together, that if their mother shouted "Fred!" or "George!" at separate times, they would almost always traipse to Molly together.

A blink, a glance, a flicker of an eyelid was practically a full conversation between both twins. They didn't need to read each others minds to know exactly what the other was thinking. It drove their parents, brothers, sister, aunts and uncles completely nuts.

But they did had differences. Slight, unnoticable to the outer eye, differences that not even their own mother could percieve. Differences that were private, secret, solitary, known only to themselves, their own reserved world.

Fred was slightly louder. More up front. Only slightly. It was barely noticable. Both had their means of intelligence, but George usually came up with the first string, the first incline of the web to a plan. But only slightly. No one, no one had ever, ever noticed.

* * *

Molly Weasley was delighted when the twins, both ten at the time, came home to announce they had been invited to a sleepover. Since they had been old enough to go out and make friends with other people, they hadn't been interested. Both boys were far more interested in pranking, fooling, and scaring the living daylights out of local kids their age. It made them distanced, alone, detached from them. But Fred and George hardly cared. They had each other.

It was a sporty, quidditch-craved boy, who was holding this sleepover. He had invited almost everyone their age within ten miles of his exquisite, radiant, and lets face it, _huge_ manor. Fred and George weren't exactly friends with this boy, in fact, they couldn't even remember his name, but he had heard of the Weasley twins' joking sense of humor, and figured that entertainment would be at hand. Fred and George weren't reluctant in agreeing to go, both of them thought it would be fun. They'd never been to a sleepover before.

So they were moth mildly suprised when Molly handed them separate sleeping bags. She'd magically modified them herself; a dozen "F"s on Freds, and "G"s on George's. They blinked simultaneously.

"What's this?" Asked Fred.

"Sleeping bags, of course," Molly replied with a bright smile, pulling their woolly hats down firmly over their ears. "Come on now dears, it's cold out."

"Why do we need those?" George demanded to know.

"Fred, you don't think that little Oliver is going to have beds for all of you, do you?"

"Hey, I'm Fred, that's George," Fred said, noticing the "G"s on his sleeping bag and passing it to George, who swapped his own with Fred's. Molly laughed and began retreating towards the back door.

"Oh, you boys, keep me young...come on, I'll walk you to the Manor..."

The sleepover was fun, so to start. Oliver's main room had been strung up into a huge den, the curtains drawn on the wide windows, various Quidditch posters strewn up on the walls, a large television set placed against the wall. Oliver kept everyone in stitches showing them the tricks he could perform on his broomstick, hurling around the high-roofed room and displaying various handstands and headstands and elbow-stands and every other kind of stand he could maintain on the peice of wood...until Oliver lost his balance, tripped, earning a gasp from his audience, and slipped from the broom--

--only to conveniently grab hold of the long curtains aside him, tearing them right down the middle, but managing to land safely on his feet with his fists in the air. Even Fred and George clapped, in awe of Oliver's confidence on the broom.

"Are you going to be in the Quidditch team when we go to Hogwarts, Wood?" Fred practically lunged down his throat, beaming from ear to ear.

"Yeah, you'd be great!" Agreed George. But before Oliver could reply, the door was flung open, knocking Lee Jordan out of the way. Oliver's well-cut mother gasped and pulled the boy to his feet, whereas his father strode forwards, staring up at the torn curtains and clicking his tongue.

"Thought someone had died..." he muttered, and pulled his wand out from his trouser pocket, waving it delicately in the direction of the curtains. "_Reparo," _he said softly, and watched as the curtains mended themselves, good as new.

Fred and George glanced at each other, the corners of their mouths twitching, and resisted the urge to scurry to the door, with the intentions of tripping Mr Wood up and taking the wand, with intentions of performing their own kind of tricks with it. They would be sent home straight away, Molly would be furious, as well as upset that they'd wasted their chance at making friends, and their father would be dissappointed. The kind of dissappointed that always made Fred and George feel terrible.

Plus, they wanted to stay and watch the films.

When Mr and Mrs Wood had left, Oliver drew out a collection of DVD tapes. They all looked _ridiculous_. The covers displayed stupid fluffy pictures of Care Bears and other soppy, babyish stuff. Everyone groaned.

"You're kidding, Oli?"

"I'm not watching that."

"Yeah, I'd rather go home..."

"Shut up you idiots, do you honestly think I'd bring these up as possible films?" Oliver grinned and snapped open the nearest DVD case. The disk in the centre of it had a grim, dull picture on it, nothing like the image on the front of the case. Frowns melted into wide smirks as they processed what Oliver had done. "Dad got me them from a muggle shop. They have age limits on them though, and my mum would have gone mental, so I had to hide them in these cases."

"Nice one," Fred and George grinned.

"Yeah, you sure pulled the wool over her eyes."

"Go, Wood!"

Everyone crowded around the television as Oliver put the disk in, and a haunting, scary image appeared on the screen.

* * *

After at least five horror films, each one ranging from blood-thirsty vampires, to revenge-bound serial killers, all of the boys finally agreed that they were freaked out. It had taken them long enough; daring each other to watch the most horrific parts, cooing and sniggering at one an other if they displayed any kind of fear. It was three-am, and a loud, forced yawn by Oliver told everyone that they should go to sleep.

It didn't take long for sleeping bags to be unrolled, blankets to be thrown around, and pillows to be fluffed up, and everyone had more or less fallen asleep.

Everyone, that was, except the twins.

They were apart. In their stupid separate sleeping bags, they were apart. Although both of them were aside each other, staring into idential pairs of cerulean eyes, they couldn't have felt more apart. Never in all ten years of their lives had they slept without the other. It felt like someone had ripped off an arm, a leg. Taken an eyeball or an ear. Their heart, had been ripped in half.

It was Fred who flipped first.

He shuffled his sleeping bag closer to George's, but it didn't make much difference. They were still disconnected. A few moments later George began wriggling himself towards Fred, until they were pressed together.

Arms extended from their sleeping bags, grabbing at the other's forearms, the need for comfort, gratification, satisfaction taking over their muddled heads. Fred slid out of his sleeping bag and eased himself into George's. It was a squeeze; the sleeping bag had been deliberately made to only fit one ten year old boy in it, but it didn't matter. Arms and legs entwined around each other, and they curled up into a tight ball, the way they did every other night. They knew no different. It wasn't weird or abnormal to them. They weren't strange. They were just them.

They were only human, and humans have needs.


End file.
